


shaking loose these souls

by threerings



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: 'we should probably talk nah let's fuck' basically, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Feels y'all, Other, POV Juno Steel, Post Episode: s02e35 Juno Steel and the Soul of the People Part 2, Smut and Feels, Spoilers for S2 finale, but THEN there's talking, my second version of what happens between Peter and Juno after that ep, the one where they just fall into bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 05:58:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17677754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/threerings/pseuds/threerings
Summary: In which Juno and Peter practice my preferred method of dealing: let's just screw.   And then some feelings bubble up in the aftermath.100% Smut and Feelings, 0% filler





	shaking loose these souls

**Author's Note:**

> Oops, I ficced again. Had no intention of writing more Jupeter, thought I had gotten the finale out of my system, but then that entire ending conversation happened in my head, so...yeah.
> 
> Enjoy!

The lights in the ship were low and reddish when Juno emerged from his cabin. He’d tried to sleep, as the others had recommended, but everything about being here was too strange. The sealed-jar air, the hum of the ship’s electronics all around, the knowledge that there wasn’t solid ground anywhere underneath him. He just couldn’t escape the fluttery feeling in his chest that wouldn’t stop telling him it was _all wrong._

Plus there was Peter Nureyev, appearing like that just when he’d half set his mind to go looking for him. He’d avoided being alone with him, hadn’t said more than an incoherent mumbled greeting to him. Every time he’d closed his eyes to sleep, he’d seen the man’s cocky smile and his long limbs, sprawled across that car hood. 

So eventually he’d given up and set out to find something to blur the edges a little and hopefully send him to sleep. Not (he told himself firmly) a bottle of something to drink until he passed out. That was no way to start this new, strange endeavor. Just a glass or two wouldn’t hurt, though.

He should probably have been more surprised when he looked up from the glass of whiskey sitting on the galley table in front of him and saw Peter Nureyev standing in the doorway, looking a touch surprised.

“Juno!” he said, eyes wide. “Everything alright?”

“Nureyev.” He gave a nod. “Just couldn’t sleep, is all.” 

“Do you mind if I...?” Peter made an entirely vague gesture, encompassing most of the room. 

“Sure,” he replied evenly, motioning to the chair across from him. “Whiskey?” His heart pounded as the man declined the drink and pulled out the chair he’d indicated. He sat at an angle to the table, placing the two of them only a few feet apart with no comforting barrier between. Juno’s heart beat loudly at the proximity, and the uncertainty of the situation. He was well and truly cornered now, and whatever Nureyev had to say, he couldn’t avoid hearing. He took another large gulp of his drink. 

But Peter didn’t speak. Their eyes danced across each other a few times, both cautious and cagey. Juno wished he had something to do with his hands, something other than drink Buddy’s good liquor far too quickly. The fingers of his right hand tapped against the top of the table. Suddenly, Peter’s hand shot out and covered his, stilling the movement and letting silence fall once more. He didn’t let go, though, and it became something like having his hand held. Peter’s fingers slid in between his own, a slow caress. 

Juno’s breathing became heavier, the unsaid words between them ringing louder in his ears, but not in his throat. He looked back at Peter’s face from where their hands joined. Their eyes locked. 

And in the next moment they were crashing together, somewhere in between their two chairs, both leaning in and tugging at each other at once. Their mouths met hungrily, tongues sliding together, lips colliding clumsily. Sharp teeth scraped along Juno’s tongue, bit into his bottom lip, and he didn’t mind in the least. He leaned forward and nearly fell from his chair, but a strong arm around his waist held him up and tugged him further at the same time, until he was straddling Peter’s legs, his own chair abandoned. 

The kissing kicked into high gear then, pausing only long enough for them to bite and suck at each other’s necks. Warm hands slid up his back, under his shirt and he rocked his hips against Peter. He was achingly hard, shamelessly grinding down against Peter as he sucked on his tongue. A thrill shot through him when he felt the other’s cock, hard as his own, slide against his, both of them groaning. 

Juno was dizzy with it, with the aching need and throbbing pleasure, the elation of finally, finally having what he’d wanted so badly and for so long. He didn’t know if he’d ever wanted something as badly as he wanted Peter Nureyev at that moment. 

“I want you,” he moaned against Peter’s lips when next they broke apart. In reply, Nureyev gave a small growl of pleasure and then patted him on the butt with an open hand.

“Hop up, then,” he said, brightly. Juno did, a touch embarrassed at the flare of wanting that shot through him from the playful blow. Peter stood as well, capturing Juno’s hand and tugging him briskly down the corridor toward the personal cabins. 

They went to Peter’s room, the small space cluttered with a dazzling array of clothing and accessories: jewels glinting at Juno from various pieces of jewelry haphazardly displayed everywhere. As Juno tumbled onto the bed, pulling Peter after him, the thought occurred to him that the space had the feel of a sultan’s tent from some ancient Terran fairy tale. 

Their clothing came off clumsily, both of them in a hurry and not worrying about the condition of their wardrobe. When their mouths weren’t kissing, they were exploring each other’s necks and chests and bodies with lips and teeth and tongues. 

“Need you,” Juno groaned, tugging on Peter’s hair. “Need you inside me.” He saw the flare of wanting in Nureyev’s dancing eyes. 

“Yes,” he said, and reached down with one hand and slid a finger into Juno. He moaned loudly, arching his spine. It felt so good. 

“You’re so tight,” Peter murmured.

“It’s been a while,” he replied with a twist of his lips. “Huh. I guess, a little more—ah—than a year? Right?” 

Peter stilled and quirked an eyebrow. “Oh?” Juno realized what he’d confessed, unwittingly. 

“I mean,” he said hurriedly, “don’t get the wrong idea. There’s been...people. Just...not...” When Peter removed his finger from his body, his heart dropped, horribly afraid he’d said the wrong thing. 

“I see.” Nureyev smiled and when he moved, it was towards a bedside drawer. Juno breathed out in relief when he saw the bottle of lube in his hand. 

Peter went back to preparing him, sliding two slick fingers into him. His eyes were locked on Juno’s face and the intensity of that was something Juno could only face in brief glimpses. Luckily he had a great excuse for shutting his eye, with Peter’s fingers expertly taking him apart. 

“Oh, god, Peter, please,” he begged, reaching for his hip, trying to pull him closer. He got the message, it seemed, for soon he was in position between Juno’s legs, pressing into him in a slow, smooth motion. 

It was incredible. Perfect. Exactly what he’d wanted and needed and asked for. Nureyev bent over him and kissed him hungrily. Juno lost track of how long it lasted, what he was saying in gasps and moans, everything but Peter inside him, over him, with him. Having Nureyev like this felt like remembering, like a comfortable lover who knew exactly how to go, despite this only being their second time. He brought Juno over the edge expertly, right before he cried out and came, too. 

Afterwards, Juno curled up on his side, trying to catch his breath and stop the dangerous-feeling pounding of his heart. Peter pressed to his back, and despite the warmth and the sweat covering both of them, Juno grabbed onto the arm draped over him and pulled him closer. He lay there and enjoyed the feel of Peter’s lips against the nape of his neck. 

“Nureyev?” he asked softly after a long silence. 

Peter’s breath was hot on his skin as he responded, “Yes, love?” Juno’s hands clenched involuntarily at the endearment, that word, so casually spoken. He felt Peter react to having his hand nearly crushed in Juno’s fist. He swallowed, meaning to either apologize or continue on, he wasn’t sure, but the lump in his throat wouldn’t let him speak.

The room echoed with silence for a too-long time when he finally spoke, “Can we...” He broke off, not sure how to finish the sentence. _...start over,_ flashed through his head, but wasn’t quite right. “Can we _have_ this?” His voice sounded small enough to make him wince. 

“Juno,” breathed Peter, in that way that made him want to cry. “I thought I’d been obvious enough that _this_ was yours for the taking, at any point in our association.” Juno clenched his eyes closed and breathed through his nose. He wanted to turn and bury his face in Peter’s chest, but he didn’t move. Nor did he speak for a moment. 

_I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I was a fool, an idiot, how can you forgive me? Can you ever forgive me?_ He didn’t say any of the things he burned to say. He wouldn’t...couldn’t bring that into this moment that felt like such a fragile, impossible thing. 

“Even after everything...” As close as he could get. 

“Yes,” replied Peter, then his lips pressed against Juno’s skin gently. 

“I don’t...” He swallowed again and when he continued it came out in a harsh whisper. “I don’t know if I know how to do this.” And then he did turn in Peter’s arms, did press his face to his shoulder. Peter’s arms closed tightly, securely around him. “I definitely didn’t know how...then.” 

He felt more than heard Nureyev’s reaction, a catching of his breath, a stutter under his head. Neither of them spoke for a while. 

“Did you leave because you didn’t want me?” Peter asked finally, voice carefully even. 

“ _God_ no!” He pulled away enough to look up at the shadow of Peter’s face, vehemently. 

A pause and then, without looking at him, “Did you leave because you didn’t...care about me?” And he heard how much that question cost Nureyev and his heart bled a little more. 

“No,” he said softly, but insistently. “It was...because I did.” The confession seemed to ring out between them, loud despite the whisper in which it was spoken. He hid his face again, trying not to tremble too hard, listening to the beating of Peter Nureyev’s heart. After a while he couldn’t tell which thump was Peter’s and which his own. 

Eventually he realized they’d both relaxed some, their bodies not quivering with quite as much tension. Peter’s hand slid up into Juno’s hair, stroking soothingly. After a moment, Juno lifted his head. He reached a hand above him to pull Peter down to meet him. 

“Peter,” he said, almost against the other’s lips. “I want to try.” And then he kissed him, hungrily, sincerely, and Peter met his need with his own.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Province" by TV on the Radio. Something of a Jupeter anthem for me. 
> 
> For more in "Hardcore emotional smut" [(It's my brand!)](https://three--rings.tumblr.com/) you can find me on [Tumblr.](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/gentlysociallypinned) And other places.


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